frost-byed
a chill ...
not on skin - to marrow
if but for the frigid air
a horrid pattern would trace my cheek
though not nearly as horrid
as the one that faces me upon the glass
it is quite beautiful in shape
hemmed with
frost crystals like Guipure Lace
the letters formed perfectly ...
I wonder, am I the first?
did you practice scribing it flawlessly
backward just for me,
or is this your common “out”?
oh, if I was yet a plastic figure -
how divine!
no heart to rend
no trembling hands to hide
just a fake little man stuck in a snow globe
dreamy flakes falling like lashes
with just a simple shake …
plastic man with a
happy castle and cresh behind
oh, if only ...
then this callous word
you've scratched
that drips and freezes into
beauty on the window between us
would be naught but
Christmas fun
instead ...
of a farewell.
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